


Thank You for Coming

by apple_pi



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, better not get caught, but then again this is rpf, requires quite a lot of suspension of disbelief, so...., unlikely but fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-26
Updated: 2005-10-26
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_pi/pseuds/apple_pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy slid a hand onto his thigh, meaning to give him a comforting pat. But Dom… whimpered. Low, and almost voiceless, but Billy knew Dom, and at that half-whimper (<i>whim?</i> Billy thought, and grinned to himself), Billy slid his hand up Dom’s thigh (still under the tablecloth, thank goodness for that) and found just what he’d thought he might.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You for Coming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/gifts).



“Can we leave yet?” Dom’s voice was low, strained, and Billy glanced at him, startled.

“If we want to be killed and skinned and have our carcasses sold on Ebay by the people who threw this shindig, we can leave,” he replied. “Soon, though, I think. What’s the matter?”

“Fucking—nothing.” Dom rolled his eyes and started to turn away, to look toward someone else at the long, ravaged banquet table. Billy slid a hand onto his thigh, meaning to give him a comforting pat.

But Dom… whimpered. Low, and almost voiceless, but Billy knew Dom, and at that half-whimper ( _whim?_ Billy thought, and grinned to himself), Billy slid his hand up Dom’s thigh (still under the tablecloth, thank goodness for that) and found just what he’d thought he might.

“Oooh, I see,” Billy said, low and intimate. “Or rather…” he squeezed, “…I feel.”

Dom’s eyes went wide as his head whipped around to face Billy again. “Arsehole,” he whispered fiercely, eyes darting past Billy to make sure no one was paying attention to them, two minor celebrities at a minor charity event. 

No one was.

Dom’s eyes were hard and dark, glittering, rimmed with kohl. “Don’t tease,” he hissed as Billy massaged the ridge he’d discovered in Dom’s trousers.

Billy leaned in. “They’re all drunk,” he murmured. His hand rubbed up and down, slowly. “They’re not paying attention.”

Dom closed his eyes briefly, opened them to zero in on Billy’s small smile, the way his green irises were being slowly eclipsed by black as his pupils expanded. “ _You’re_ drunk,” he accused. 

“Are you complaining?”

Billy gripped.

“…Nnnno,” Dom whimpered, still almost voiceless, but a whole whimper, this time, Billy thought, no whim about it. He twisted his wrist, feeling Dom’s thighs tense under his forearm.

“Put your elbow on the table,” Billy demanded in a low voice, a (somewhat demented, but what the hell) smile fixed on his wicked pixie face. “Face me. Like I’m telling you some kind of story, just two mates sharing a private laugh.” He loosened his grasp and began rubbing again.

“Bill…” 

But Dom did as he was told. He propped his elbow on the table and his head on his hand and faced Billy.

Billy leaned closer. “I can’t believe you’re that hard, Dominic. What’s got you so worked up?” All the while his hand moved up and down, stroking Dom’s cock firmly through his trousers. No pants, though. Billy knew for a fact that Dom wasn’t wearing pants.

“You and your—” Dom paused, closed his eyes and breathed, opened them again and pasted on a smile so cheerfully bad it made Billy’s own cock—already quite alert, ta very much—come to full attention. “—Fucking kilt,” Dom finished breathlessly. He laughed, and Billy laughed, too, because it was ridiculous, what Billy was doing, what Dom was letting him do.

“I should let _you_ get _me_ off,” Billy whispered. He sped his hand, then slowed it and rubbed lower, pressing and cupping Dom’s balls.

Dom’s eyes dropped shut again, like a trapdoor, Billy thought: slammed shut. “I would,” Dom said quietly, so quietly Billy could barely hear him.

Their nearest neighbor laughed loudly and Billy jerked, head up, hand stilled, eyes focused beyond Dom’s blond head. But Dom lifted his hips, just a little, just enough to remind Billy of what he was supposed to be doing. Billy’s eyes zeroed in again. 

“I’d slide right under this table,” Dom mumbled, leaning into Billy’s face. “Push that fucking—” he sucked in a breath as Billy ground down with the heel of his hand— “fucking kilt up, suck you off under the tablecloth, where no one could see.”

Billy whimpered, this time, not quite as quietly as he’d meant to, and then he laughed, high and false, in case anyone had turned to look. “Fucker,” he hissed at Dom, speeding his hand again, eyes boring into Dom’s.

“Wanna taste you, Bill, wanna, wanna,” Dom was losing coherence, “wanna suck your fucking—ah—” His eyes closed again, brows coming momentarily down to furrow his forehead.

“Shut up,” Billy demanded in a hoarse, nearly silent rasp, hoping anyone who looked would think they were discussing politics, human rights, war and peace, because the false smile was gone and Billy knew his own face must mirror the heated intensity on Dom’s features. “Open your fucking eyes, Dom, I’ll do the talking.”

Dom’s eyes popped open, shocked and dilated, fixed on Billy’s gaze. “Getting close,” he whispered.

“Gonna make you come in your fucking trousers,” Billy said, barely voiced words. He rubbed harder, fiercer, faster, watching Dom’s eyes glaze, his chest moving quickly up and down. “Make you messy and wet and tired, then take you home and fuck you, Dom, I’m gonna take you home,” he slowed again, slid his hand lower to massage Dom’s balls, then back up, “take you and lay you out on that bed and fuck you till you’re hard again, till you scream for it, like you can’t scream now, till you arch back and shoot all over me, all over you, and you’re gonna be loud, Dom, just like you’re quiet now,” Billy was breathing fast, too, his cock thick and heavy and hard and pulsing in time with his heartbeat against the (necessary, irritating) weight of the sporran he’d worn, “c’mon, Dommie, close? Are you close?”

“Close,” Dom said, only he didn’t say it, he mouthed it, eyes wide and latched to Billy’s still, his elbow pressing hard into the table, wristbone white where his hand was pressed against the side of his head. “Gonna,” he said, and that was aloud.

“Do it,” Billy mouthed, and Dom closed his eyes, threw his head back and laughed and gasped and came hard, sudden warm damp under Billy’s hand, Dom’s body shaking and Billy laughed with him, to cover for him, still squeezing, taking in every fragment of Dom’s climax: his arched neck, taut hard thighs, dazed expression as it finished and he leaned forward again, grinning and breathless, panting. 

“Good one, Bills,” Dom chuckled aloud, and Billy giggled again, too, eyes wide, gaze trapped by Dom just like Dom had been trapped by Billy. 

“Yeah, wasn’t it?” Billy said, labouring to breathe evenly, smiling widely.

“You boys,” said a new voice suddenly, and both of them started and sat up straighter, Billy pulling his hand back onto his own lap (pressing briefly against his cock, pushing it down, tucking it between his thighs). “Always laughing together.”

“We do everything together,” Dom said, smiling warmly up at the girl, what was her name?

Erica, yeah. “Great dinner, Erica,” Billy said. “About to wrap up, is it?”

She looked around at the quietly talking diners. “It looks that way, doesn’t it? I guess you’ll all be heading out soon.” She beamed at them both: a pretty girl, she was, with rich brown hair and a wide, happy smile. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Oh, he talked me into it,” Dom said.

Billy laughed again.


End file.
